Del stared across the coffee table and fought to keep her anger in check. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying desperately not to let the anger come boiling out. Francis squirmed on the sofa, her large, expressive blue eyes showing her confusion and fear.
"You did what?" Del asked, hearing the anger in her voice and berating herself for letting it show through.
"I asked your mother if she would like to stay with us," her lover of five years whispered.
"Fuck me running," Del said as she put her face in her hands and massaged her eyes. She could feel a headache coming, one of the nasty ones.
"I'm sorry Del, I didn't think..."
"No! You didn't think!" the lanky butch exploded. She immediately felt like a complete heel, as the voluptuous little blonde cringed. Before Del met her, Francis had been involved with a string of abusive lovers, both male and female. She was really gay, Del knew it for sure, but more than even her orientation, she was a slave to her low self-esteem and negligible self worth. Her first husband had thoroughly beaten her down and the string of partners, after he dumped her, had only served to cement the idea in her mind that she was worthless. Del had spent five years rebuilding the girl's shattered self-image, but the little blonde still couldn't say no.
"I'm sorry, baby," Del said, moving to the sofa and hugging Fran gently.
"I didn't mean to...I mean, I didn't know..." she whimpered pitifully.
"I know baby, it's my fault. I never talked to you about my mom. You had no way of knowing," Del said gently.
"I just thought you would like to see her," Francis whined and Del resisted the urge to yell at her again. In her most reasonable voice she started.
"No. My mother called, imperiously told you she was going to be staying with us, and you just couldn't tell her, no," the butch said.
"How did you know?"
"Because I know you and I know my mother. Why is she coming to New York and how long is she staying?" Del asked, suddenly very tired.
"She is coming to work on some building and said she was staying for about a month," Francis replied, the smile returning to her face and the almost ever-present happiness to her voice. Part of the reason Del loved her so, was her inexhaustible good cheer, but she recognized this for what it was.
"Don't play dumb blonde with me Fran, I've warned you about that before," Del said seriously.
"I'm sorry Del," she said contritely.
"And stop fucking apologizing!" Del yelled, her temper getting the better of her again.
"I'm sorry," she whined.
Del couldn't take any more. She stood, swiftly leaving the living room, stalked down the hall, and locked the bedroom door behind her. Del growled in frustration when she heard Fran following her. She moved swiftly to the bathroom and slammed the door, but even then she could hear Fran's voice, wheedling and begging at the bedroom door. The tall butch sat on the commode and held her head in her hands, massaging her temples.
She sighed heavily and turned on the taps in the tub. It was more to drown out Fran, than because she really wanted a bath, and she barely noticed as the tub slowly filled. Standing back up she stripped off the black blouse and undid the front closure on her tiny black bra. She didn't bother pulling it off her shoulders, but instead undid the button on her black jeans and pulled the zipper down while kicking off one of her boots. She kicked off the other as she wiggled out of the jeans and black bikini briefs. She stepped out of the pants and as she stood back up shrugged out of the small bra. Her movements were purposeful and efficient, devoid of wasted motion.
She stepped gingerly into the tub and eased her lanky frame into the steaming water. Del turned off the taps, and was immediately aware of the silence; apparently Fran had given up. She inhaled deeply of the steam and let the nearly scalding water relax her.
Del would never hit her lover, but there were times when she had to fight the urge. Not that she had ever struck any of her lovers, but Fran sometimes made her want to. Del knew that it was learned, a conditioned response from her; she attempted subconsciously to give Del an excuse to smack her around. Dr. Hattingley called it a defense mechanism of sorts, whereby Fran pushed her lover to hit her and could therefore say to herself she deserved it. In some twisted psychological way it allowed the small woman to feel she was in control of the situation. The doc had warned Del she must never give in to it. Each time Frannie tried it, if she didn't get the response she was looking for, the urge to resort to it would diminish.
"Easy for you to say," Del snorted. She loved the small woman, had shared so much of herself with her, and now Fran knew exactly which buttons to push. The most infuriating, from Del's point of view, was the dumb blonde routine. Fran was brilliant, deep, and thoughtful. She could easily be anything she put her mind to, while Del had struggled mightily just to get her GED. She wasn't dumb, but lacked book learning and the patience required to acquire it. Frannie could read something once and repeat it almost verbatim a week later. Del was touchy about her own ignorance, and seeing Fran play dumb for effect often sent her into a rage.
Del soaped up her long legs and pushed the small blonde and her irritating habits from her mind. She had much bigger problems now than Fran's insecurities. Her mother was coming and that could only lead to trouble. Big trouble.
Del and her mother, Carmen, got along about as well as a pair of male Betas in a coffee cup would. They butted heads on nearly everything. It wasn't that she disliked her mom, in fact she loved her very much, but when she left home they seemed to have an understanding of sorts. Until Carmen divorced Del's dad, married an Italian national named Guiseppi Primo and moved to Milan, they enjoyed having lunch every Friday. They both loved one another, loved each other's company, but seemed to realize they could only handle each other in very small doses.
Del was a top and her mother was very domineering. When they were together for too long always ended in what her retiring father called the feminine equivalent of an 'I've got a bigger dick' contest. Del tended to agree, especially as she had gotten older and come to realize she was gay. She and her mom fought like a pair of bull dykes in a bar full of femmes and now Carmen was coming to stay with them for a month. The water was tepid when Del finished her bath and got out of the tub. Her anger nearly spent, she opened the door to the bedroom as she toweled off.
She was turning back the covers on their California king bed when Fran peeped around the corner of the door-frame.
"Can I come in now?" She asked in a stage whisper.
"Yeah babe, come on in."
"You're not mad at me anymore?" She asked as she hesitantly stepped into the room.
"No. It wasn't your fault. The only one I know who can tell my mom 'no' is me. I had no right to expect you to. Even Dad couldn't," Del said as she sat on the bed.
"I really thought you loved your Mom. I wasn't playing dumb. Honestly, I had no idea you would be upset," Fran said as she sat daintily on the bed. Del looked at her closely, but the big eyes were open and earnest. Maybe she hadn't been playing dumb. Maybe she was finally starting to break that habit. Del hoped so, she felt a lot better knowing that in this case Fran probably was telling the truth.
